


For Good

by thatonekid_gotakunerd



Series: Nymphverse (Supernatural) [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: I like them, Other, Some angst, along with whoever's part of the specific plot for this one, but not bad, but the ocs follow the usual rules, its mostly kye and aneia, more actual destiel, more nymphs, sorry if theyre annoying, zero squinting required
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-10-05 09:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20486273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatonekid_gotakunerd/pseuds/thatonekid_gotakunerd
Summary: The third instalment of the Nymphverse series!The Winchesters encounter another person with hypnotic abilities, but are they a Nymph or a human psychic? They call in their new acquaintances for help.(Three of these in, and I'm still terrible at summaries, yikes.)





	1. A New Case

**Author's Note:**

> We're back! This is both a plot building and character building work. More importantly, it's a longer one. So long that it needs multiple chapters, which is a first for this series, yikes.

It was two months later when the Winchesters next used the phone number Aneia had given them.

They were back on the Western seaboard investigating another case that sounded eerily similar to that of Andy Gallagher and Ansem Webber.

No one had died yet, but countless people had reported doing things without meaning to, coming out of strange trances to find they'd given a nice-looking customer an X-Box for free or other odd things. They weren’t sure if it was a Nymph, a psychic or something else entirely, but it was clearly something supernatural.

"I think we could use your help again." Sam said. They’d been trying to figure out what was going on, and Aneia seemed to be the closest thing they had to an expert.

"Okay," Aneia's voice came over the phone.

Sam was surprised - he hadn't expected her to speak. "How-"

"Long story short - magic," she said. "Our phones are enchanted to block the 'hypnotism,' as you refer to it, in our voices. It's safe."

"Oh. Clever."

"Yeah. So what's up? What do you need?"

"We have a case, and we think there's some sort of mind control."

"Ah. I see. I'll talk to Kye and we'll be on our way." "Will he be okay with that? I don't think he really likes us."

"He doesn't trust you. There's a difference. Plus, we've - uh - we've been looking into something that would lead us out that direction anyways, so -" "Oh. Care to share?" "Let's talk about it at - where exactly are we going?" "Mission Creek, California."

"Mission Creek, California. See you there."

"Yup," he said, hanging up the phone.

"She coming?" Dean asked, entering the room with a bag of hamburgers.

"They both are," Sam said, taking one from him.

"Both," Dean said. "As in?"

"Yup. Kye, too."

"That's just great. Why?"

"Apparently, there's something they're looking into there, too. Maybe this case is connected to whatever larger issue their dealing with."

"Alright. But I'm finishing this bacon burger first."

They drove up to the town of Mission Creek, California. Both Dean and Castiel seemed uneasy at the prospect of meeting Kye again and the new unknown variable of the Nymph's investigation. When they reached the motel, there was a car already parked outside the room next to theirs -- presumably one the Nymphs had driven.

"It's a piece of junk," Dean muttered, glaring at the rusty, forest green car.

He wasn't wrong. The car wasn't pretty. It was built like a small tank and the mirrors were an entirely different colour than the body.

Sam sighed. "Let's just get settled in and then go talk to them."

They opened the door. The room only had two beds, but there was a fairly spacious couch, and Castiel didn't sleep. It didn't take long for them to set down their suitcases. They all packed light -- despite Dean's insistence that Castiel needed multiple versions of his suit and trench coat.

There was a light knock on the door, and Sam opened it, stepping aside to let the two Nymphs inside the room.

"Hi," he said.

Aneia waved slightly. After their last case together, she seemed more comfortable with all of them, Castiel included. Kye just looked around, suspicious. Dean returned the glare.

"So," Sam said, clearing his throat to break the silence. "What are you doing in the area?"

Aneia and Kye traded looks quickly, but they didn't seem to come to a consensus. Eventually, Aneia raised her arms to start writing. Kye tried to stop her, but she shot him a glare. He sighed, glaring at the floor. She started writing. Dean watched Kye carefully. He didn't trust him.

Aneia handed Sam the notebook.

"When we were rewired," he read. "our species scattered. We went into hiding so the arch-angels couldn't control us."

"Why did the arch-angels rewire you?" Dean interrupted.

Aneia gestured helplessly, frustrated. With a huff, Kye wrote, _we tried to stop the apocalypse..._ and gestured for Sam to continue.

"We've been trying to find the others since the fall from heaven, but the angels are still powerful, and it turns out that Remiel isn't the only angel who's decided to take advantage of the fact."

"Okay, so you're here looking for more Nymphs?" Sam asked.

They both nodded.

"Great." Dean muttered.

"And you think this might be ... that?" Castiel asked, eyes on Dean.

Aneia gestured for the notebook back. _Maybe. Or another person like James. But there's a chance, and you want our help. So, here we are. Now, care to explain what you found?_

Of course. If angels had made one psychic, then they’d probably made more. The yellow-eyed demon hadn’t stopped at Sam.

"Right," Sam said. "So, there's this conspiracy theory blog -"

Kye looked skeptical.

"Yeah, I know, but there are some news reports that seem to corroborate what they say. Basically, there are multiple accounts of people doing things that they never thought they would do because a stranger asked and they just felt like they had to. It's happened all over town."

_What sort of things?_ Kye asked.

"Giving them free stuff, ignoring broken rules, letting them into VIP areas - your standard, selfish, douche-y stuff," Dean said.

_But no one's gotten hurt?_ Aneia wrote.

"Not yet," Castiel. "But if these are Nymphs, well, we know how that went last time."

_It could be a human psychic as well._ Aneia glared at him, putting her hand against Kye's shoulder. She said something to him in ASL, but the Winchesters couldn't understand it. He shook her off.

_You're right, _he wrote. _Nymphs can be dangerous. But don't forget. There was an angel in Seattle, too._

For a moment, no one spoke. Finally, Aneia ran her hand over her face. _So, what's the plan?_

It felt like so much of the progress they had made was sliding backwards as Kye and Castiel faced off. "I think we should split up," Sam suggested. "We talk to the locals, work the case from our end. You seek out other Nymphs and see what you can find out. Then we meet back up. And if we run into any mind-control issues before that, we'll call you."

Aneia nodded assent, then looked to Kye. He shrugged. She rolled her eyes and nodded to the Winchesters.

After the Nymphs had returned to their own room, Dean turned to Sam. "That's it?" He asked.

"What?"

"We're just supposed to be okay with the fact that we're relying on Barky Number Two - who seems to hate our guts -- for backup?"

"I mean, he's got a reason to be uncomfortable, and I don't think he's a threat. Aneia trusts him." Sam tried not to think about his own discomfort with the tension.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean he'll have our backs in a fight. I just don't like it."

"Okay. Well, with any luck, we might not have to fight anyone."

"Yeah, and when have we had that sort of luck?"

The Nymphs weren’t the angels -- they were emotional creatures and extraordinarily empathetic ones at that. That made them vulnerable, just like humans could be, but it also made them open and caring. Sam didn’t think either of them would betray them. They had no reason to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm legit sorry about how long this has taken me. I am not a fast or consistent writer, I know. But this fic is mostly done, so I should be able to keep a reasonable update schedule?? Just for this one? I hope?


	2. The Case Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchesters and the Nymphs start asking questions and looking for the answers.

The three Winchesters went out the next morning as journalists of the paranormal to talk to the people from the conspiracy blog. 

"Okay - the first person on the list is a Theresa May Harper. 1833 Jefferson Street." 

"And what does she say happened to her?" 

"That's what we're about to find out."

Sam knocked on the door. "Mrs. Harper?"

The door cracked open slightly, stopping with a clank against a chain bolt. That was not exactly a good sign. 

“Who’s asking?”

“My name is Thomas Wyland, and these are my associates, Henry Atkinson and Ryan Matthews. We write for the Weekly Psychic Post, an online supernatural paper,” Dean said. 

“Yeah?” The woman said. 

“We saw your story online, and we were wondering if you would be willing to give us an interview?”

“Oh, of course.” She seemed much more open and engaged now. She closed the door and there was the sound of a chain sliding back and the door swung open fully. “Come in, come in.” She led them through the house into a small kitchen. Sam stared at all the crystals and runes around the rooms. 

Most of them seemed… mundane -- the sort of gimmicky supernatural things sold at malls. Others, however, made him a little wary. This woman might not have a clue what she was doing, but some of these objects seemed to radiate power. 

“What do you want to know?” She asked as she placed steaming mugs of tea in front of each of them. Dean made a face, and Sam shot him an admonishing glare, clearing his throat slightly. 

He smiled at her. “Could you describe your experience for us? Just what happened from your perspective, what it felt like.”

As they listened to her story -- she’d been in a mall when a young woman had asked her for help purchasing some clothes. Sam tried to listen for anything that might indicate whether the influence had come from a psychic or a Nymph. It was hard to tell from her story -- the woman seemed so sympathetic that it could be either. He took notes as she talked, nodding periodically.

“What did this person look like?” Dean asked. 

“She was young. She had sort of medium length brown hair. It was wavy. She was pretty fair, Caucasian, I think.” 

Sam joted that down as well, while Dean ate some of the crackers provided and Castiel watched. “This may sound odd, he said, but when she talked to you, what did you feel, exactly? Like you should do what she said but you didn’t know why, or more like you felt what she wanted you to?”

Ms. Harper considered. “Funny, I think I just needed to do it. Why do you ask?”

“We’ve seen some things like this before, Ms. Harper,” Sam said. “We’re just trying to figure out what exactly happened to you, in case it’s happened to anyone else.”

“Probably not the Nymphs then,” Sam muttered to Dean and Cas as they followed Ms. Harper out of the building. 

Castiel nodded thoughtfully. “It must be more angelic interference.” He frowned. “Heaven has never been exactly forthcoming with information, but it’s difficult to believe that something of this magnitude was going on behind the scenes -- before even the apocalypse began.”

Dean looked over at him. “Yeah,” he scoffed. “Like anything’s out of the question for Heaven’s dickery.” 

Theresa Harper’s interview proved to be the most helpful out of the six they got, which wasn’t particularly encouraging. Sam could only hope that the Nymphs had had a more productive day. 

Sam texted Aneia’s number with a diner location so they could meet up and get food. 

“Perhaps it would be best if I waited at the motel,” Castiel suggested. 

“No,” Dean said sharply. “They’ll get used to it.” 

The diner was a short drive away. Aneia was sitting on the hood of the strange green car, talking with Kye when the Impala pulled into the parking lot. She noticed the Winchesters and waved them over. 

Kye followed her motion with his gaze, looking over his shoulder. He stood stiffly back by the car as they approached. 

“Any news?” Sam asked lightly, determined to keep things civil. 

_ It’s not the Nymphs,  _ Aneia wrote. 

“We figured that much out from our end,” Dean said. Kye shot him a glare. 

Aneia rolled her eyes.  _ Play nice,  _ she said. 

“Why don’t we discuss this further over food?” Sam asked. 

Aneia nodded, Kye shrugged. 

“Good idea,” Dean said. “I could use a beer and something with meat.”

They followed him into the dingy diner, sliding into a well-worn vinyl booth. “How did you determine it wasn’t the Nymphs?” Castiel asked. 

_ There aren’t any others here.  _ Aneia said.  _ It would be somewhat difficult for it to be a Nymph without there being a Nymph.  _

“Fair enough,” Dean said. “The people we talked to didn’t sound like they’d been bewitched by you guys anyways.” 

Aneia’s eyebrows arched.  _ Did you learn anything else?  _

“We got a basic physical description. Young white woman, curly brown hair, medium length,” Sam said. 

The Nymphs joted the information down just as a waitress appeared by the table. Dean ordered and Sam ordered first, and the Nymphs visually pointed out their choices on the menu. 

“And what about you, honey?” She asked Castiel.

“No thank you,” he said. 

Dean watched the waitress walk away through narrowed eyes.

_ So what now?  _ Kye asked. 

“You don’t have to be here if you don’t want,” Sam said. Dean shot him a look. “It doesn’t sound like this is exactly your kind of case.”

Aneia and Kye exchanged a look, seemingly having a private debate. After a moment, they shrugged, and Aneia wrote,  _ Up to you. We’ll stay if you think we can help.  _

“Okay,” Sam said. 

_ So what now?  _ Kye repeated. 

“Perhaps we should consider splitting up.” Castiel said. “We don’t know where we might find her next.”

_ Do we have any idea where to start looking even?  _ He asked. 

The waitress stopped by with the food. They accepted it with smiles and thanks before turning back to their conversation as she walked away. 

“Nope,” Dean said, taking a bite. 

Aneia threw her hands up roughly.  _ Great.  _

“There doesn’t seem to be any pattern to the encounters people have reported,” Cas said regretfully.

_ Could we take a look?  _

“Sure, if you think it would help,” Sam said. 

Dean snorted. “You kids have fun with that. Sammy can teach you all about research.”

Aneia rolled her eyes as Sam sighed. Dean turned to Castiel. “What do you say, Cas? Want to do something more interesting than research?”

“Is now the best time, Dean? We’re on a case.”

“Yeah, one that’s going nowhere tonight. I don’t want to sit in the motel room looking at research we’ve already done.” 

Sam hide a smile as he saw the conflicted look on Castiel’s face. “Go ahead, Cas. We’ll let you know if we need anything.” 

Castiel hesitated a moment longer, then nodded. Sam felt relieved. Aside from giving the angel and Dean time to figure out whatever was going on with them, he also thought it would be easier to have a conversation with the Nymphs without Castiel around -- as harsh as that may have been, Kye was still clearly afraid of him. 

They continued eating, the silence that fell somewhere between comfortable and awkward. 

Dean cleared his throat as he finished, watching the others eat more slowly. “So,” he said. “Where’d you get the car? You definitely look too young to buy.”

_ We found it.  _ Aneia said. 

“Found it?”

_ It was abandoned on the side of the road.  _

“Oh my god,” Dean said. “That explains a lot.”

Aneia stuck her tongue out.  _ I like it. And it wasn’t hard to fix.  _

“Okay,” Sam said, trying to pacify his brother. He was glad they were bantering and not fighting, but he knew how intense Dean could get about cars. “Is everyone ready?”

The Nymphs both nodded. Setting their emptied plates aside, they both placed money on the table. Aneia waved to Dean and Cas, and they followed Sam out to their car.  _ I’ll drive,  _ Aneia said. 

Kye took shotgun, and Sam slid into the backseat. He realised that their car was missing a seatbelt, and shifted so he was in the safer seat. Aneia drove easily and quickly back to the motel, parking the car outside the Nymph’s room. She shut the car and gestured them towards the Winchester’s room. 

Sam unlocked the door and threw open the closet to show them the research he’d compiled. “This is what we’ve found so far.”

The two moved to look, pointing to and discussing different parts. 

“So, what do you think?” He asked eventually.

_ Did you interview all of these people?  _ Kye gestured to the different newspaper clippings and blog printouts with witnesses circled. 

“Most of them. There were a few we couldn’t find,” Sam admitted. “But they all pretty much said the same thing. We know it was a human psychic, not a Nymph, and we’ve got that description I gave you, but that’s about it. We don’t know where to go from there. There doesn’t seem to be a pattern to her appearances.”

Aneia cocked her head, scrutinising the map they had on the wall. Kye tapped her, pointing out something he saw there. Her eyes widened, and she nodded. She gestured Sam over. 

_ There is a pattern.  _ Kye wrote.  _ All the incidents are near a homeless shelter.  _

Sam blinked. It wasn’t an angle he would have thought to look for. “So, you think she’s homeless?”

_ Possibly. I think it’s a good place to start looking,  _ Aneia said. Kye nodded. 

“Okay, yeah. I’ll let Dean and Cas know.”

_ Then we can plan our next move.  _ Kye said.  _ That it for the night?  _

“I think so.”

Kye nodded and turned to the door. Aneia smiled and waved. 

“Wait--” Sam said. “Can I talk to you for a sec?” He asked Aneia. 

Kye looked to Aneia, suspicion on his face. She just nodded and waved him on ahead. 

_ What’s up?  _ She asked. 

Sam waited until Kye had shut the door. “Is he okay with this?” 

She squiggled her hand in a so-so motion, then wrote,  _ he wants to help people; he’s just not super comfortable with you guys.  _

“That’s what I meant. I don’t want to put him in a bad situation.”

_ Thank you, but we both chose to be here. We can leave anytime we need.  _

“Okay,” Sam said. “That’s fair.”

She tipped her head. She didn’t need him to tell her that. 

“Hey,” he said. “Is there a reason you’re not signing?” He didn’t know why he said it or why it had been bothering him so much, but on top of everything else, it just seemed like it added more distance. 

_ Not really,  _ her nose scrunched up slightly.  _ It kind of feels rude in front of people who don’t understand ASL,  _ she wrote.  _ Last time was an emergency.  _

Then she paused, seeming to consider.  _ Please don’t take this the wrong way,  _ she said,  _ but the reason I’m comfortable signing with you in the first place is because you’re still learning. There’s enough of a language barrier that I don’t have to worry about you,  _ she rolled her eyes,  _ “falling under our spell.”  _

“I know,” he said. 

_ Right. But that means I have to balance wanting to just talk casually with the need for clarity.  _

He nodded. That made sense. There were so many words he didn’t know, and they couldn’t exactly afford to wait while he tried to figure out what was going on. 

Once again, she seemed to waver, contemplating her next move. Then she set the notebook aside and faced him. 

_ I’m not mad at you, if that’s what you thought,  _ she signed slowly and clearly, a smile tugging at her lips. 

He smiled back and signed, “I’m glad.” 

She grinned, gathering her things.  _ Good night, Sam.  _ And then, with an impish look in her eyes,  _ And good luck with Eileen.  _

“Hey!” Sam protested, but she was already out the door.

There was a knock on their door obscenely early the next morning. Nymphs slept, but apparently not nearly as late as most humans thought was appropriate -- or maybe that was just the Winchesters. Dean grumbled and pulled his pillow over his head as Castiel moved to open the door. 

Kye smirked as he stepped in.  _ Did we wake you?  _ He held up, prewritten. 

He seemed a little more comfortable than he had the previous day. Sam sighed and stretched. “Is there a reason you’re so early?”

Kye shrugged, and Aneia moved to rouse Dean, amusement written on her face. Cas stepped in between them, saying “He is … not good with mornings,” when she glanced up at him, confused. 

Her eyebrows shot up, but she just nodded and stepped back, watching as the angel placed coffee next to Dean’s buried head, then tapped him on the shoulder. 

He moved the coffee out of the way as Dean swiped wildly around him to remove the force attempting to wake him. “Dean,” Castiel said sternly, setting the coffee back down. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean muttered. 

Cas offered a cup to Sam, who shook his head. “No, thank you, Cas.” 

The angel shrugged and began drinking the coffee himself. Sam knew he didn’t need to, but there was something about the human activities of eating and drinking that had started to gain some appeal -- perhaps the social aspect that allowed him to connect with Dean. 

It had been an area of commonality for the two during the brief period when Castiel was human, and Sam sometimes caught him watching them as they ate, a ponderous look on his face like he was trying to remember what it was like to taste. 

Sometimes, Sam wondered if Cas could ever get that back -- have the best of both worlds, so to speak. 

Mostly though, he didn’t have time to think about it. Hunter life moved too quickly. 

Like now, as Dean finally managed to get himself upright. Kye snorted, and Dean shot him a glare, but the Nymph seemed unbothered. 

_ I assume you explained the situation?  _ Aneia asked Sam, gesturing to Dean and Castiel. 

He nodded, and she nodded back in acknowledgement.  _ So what’s the plan?  _

“Slow your roll, Barky,” Dean grunted. “Let a man have his coffee first.” 

Her eyebrows shot up, and Sam realised it might have been the first time Dean called her that to her face. 

“Dean,” he chided. 

Dean glanced up at Aneia’s expression and muttered, “no offense,” before tipping his face into his coffee cup. 

That didn’t seem to make Aneia any less bewildered, but she blinked her initial shock away and wrote,  _ O-kay then. Moving on… _

“We could split up to check the various homeless shelters,” Sam suggested. “Cover more ground.”

The Nymphs exchanged a look.  _ Okay.  _ Kye wrote.  _ But these situations can get odd without interpreters, and I don’t think we have time to find one.  _

A thoughtful expression crossed Aneia’s face, and as it cleared, she turned to Kye, tapping his shoulder. She said something quickly, the speed, sideways angle, and complexity making it impossible for Sam to pick out anything but an occasional word. ASL was totally different in the hands of fluent speakers. 

After a moment, Kye shrugged. Apparently, that was as close to agreement from him as it got because Aneia turned back to them and wrote,  _ We can split up if Kye goes with Sam since you,  _ she nodded to him,  _ know some ASL, and I’ll go with you guys.  _ She nodded to Dean and Cas. Sam suspected it was also because the Nymph knew that she’d be more comfortable around them than Kye would. 

“Wait,” Dean said. “Doesn’t that mean Sam’s vulnerable.”

Aneia shook her head.  _ You know how essential understanding of not just our words but the tone, emotion, and expression are to our ability to make others empathise with us. Language barriers prevent a lot of that -- just like we try to with writing, take out as many of those personal nuances as possible.  _

Dean nodded. “Okay. So Sam’s not fluent so he’s safe. What about you?”

She smiled. _I have had to do things like this before._

“It didn’t seem like it when you showed up at our door in Seattle.”

Her expression closed off.  _ When I showed up at the motel in Seattle, I’d just watched a man jump off a cliff.  _ Whatever she may have said about writing hiding emotion, Sam could see the coldness in her voice. 

Any trace of humour went out of Dean’s face as well. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

She shrugged.  _ I’ve got my phone and notebook. We’ll figure communication out.  _

The group ate a quick breakfast together, which surprised Sam somewhat. He appreciated the effort they were all putting in to get along. Afterwords, they split up the shelters, and each group started their search. 

Sam felt a little awkward around Kye, who seemed to feel the same. Neither of them really knew each other. Still, he knew it was the better arrangement, and he did want to get to know him. 

“Alright. Our first shelter is down 32nd Street. Are you driving?”

Kye nodded. Dean was taking the Impala, of course, so Sam once again slid onto the worn, cracked leather of the Nymph’s car. 

They drove in relative silence. Kye was a confident driver, absolutely focused on the road and unhesitant. He didn’t park at the shelter, instead pulling off a few streets away. Sam glanced over as the car stopped. 

_ How do we want to do this?  _ Kye asked. 

“How do you guys normally do things like this?”

He shrugged.  _ We’re usually just ourselves. We have a lot of experience moving around and being homeless.  _ He glanced over at Sam.  _ You and I, however, don’t really look the part.  _

“What would you suggest? We could be volunteers.” 

Kye tilted his head. He was less expressive than Aneia, reserved.  _ That might work. Most volunteers don’t really interact with the people at the shelter. _

“But, I mean, some do, right?” 

_ They do.  _

“Then, even if it’s not exactly normal, we’re only going to be there for today.”

He shrugged again but followed Sam out of the car, turning down the street and heading towards the shelter. He stuck his notebook in his pocket. 

_ Better sign, now.  _ He said.  _ Looks less odd.  _

He kept the sentences short and simple, clearly for Sam’s benefit. It wasn’t a long walk, but it felt tense and uncomfortable. It wasn’t just that Kye was quieter in general -- he was also holding back, keeping himself closed off. 

Sam didn’t know if he was afraid of Sam or afraid of influencing Sam. 

When they reached the shelter, Sam took stock of the area, checking looking for anyone who might match the description they had. 

It was hard not to feel like everyone’s were on them as they walked through empty lot towards the entrance of the building. They did stand out.

Kye seemed uncomfortable with the attention, like he was used to being part of the nearly invisible crowd. 

Still, he walked with a vague familiarity, despite having never been there before, that came from having seen countless similar institutions before. He allowed himself to follow the Nymph inside building and toward a small reception table that looked like it was originally made to be a card table. 

Kye waved uncertainly to get the attention of the man sitting at the table and smiled at him awkwardly when he looked up. 

It seemed out of character for his typical personality, but Sam didn’t know him well enough to know if it was real. Was he playing the part or was his hard exterior the act -- a defense mechanism around the hunters and angels? 

“Can I help you?” The man asked. 

Kye glanced over at Sam, indicating he should explain. 

“Uh, we’re here to volunteer,” Sam said. 

The man nodded, waiting for him to say more. 

“I’m Edmund Ray, and this is my nephew, Kyle.”

The man jotted the names down. “Okay. Do you have any experience volunteering?”

Sam shook his head as Kye nodded. 

“Is that a yes or a no?” The man asked with a smile. 

“He has, I haven’t,” Sam explained. “It’s supposed to be a kind of family thing -- his suggestion.” 

Kye smiled again innocently, this time definitely playing the part. He didn’t seem surprised by Sam’s quick lies. They were both used to a life of pretending, but Kye’s complete transformation of nature bordered on uncanny. 

The man turned to Kye. “You’ve volunteered before?”

He nodded.

“What sort of things have you done before?” 

Kye turned toward Sam so he was facing him fully, eyebrows raised in question. Sam nodded. 

_ Cleaning, making food, giving food… _ There were more signs that Sam couldn’t keep up with, despite Kye slowing down for him, but he translated what he could. 

“Is your nephew deaf?” The man asked Sam, brows furrowed. 

“Mute,” he corrected. 

A repulsed look crossed the man’s face. “We don’t use that word here.” 

“Oh, no, not like, not verbal. He can hear, but … his vocal cords don’t work.” It was kind of a sloppy excuse, but he didn’t know enough about the specific medical reasons for muteness to do better. Luckily, the man at the table didn’t seem to either. Sam was extraordinarily glad that he’d been the one to go with Kye. He didn’t think either Dean or Cas would have known what to say. It was one of the things he learned about Deaf culture from Eileen. 

Something like relief crossed the man’s face. Sam knew the feeling. He’d been around enough bigoted people to know how intimidating confronting them could feel. 

“We’re sort of jacks of all trades, so where do you need us?” Sam asked. 

The man directed them towards a shelf full of bed and a number of rooms that needed the linens changed. “If you could do up the cots in there for the night, that would be great. Just bring the dirty sheets back here so we can get them cleaned.” 

“Okay, thanks,” Sam said. 

They moved together to gather the indicated things. “What now?” Sam asked quietly. 

Kye shrugged. He pointed at the sheets and mimed putting them on the beds, then added  _ and we talk to people.  _

Sam let Kye take the lead. Changing the sheets was easy enough, but the rooms seemed deserted. 

Eventually, Sam went to find what information he could while Kye finished the rooms. He was the more efficient of them. 

Sam tried to make casual conversation with the man at the table as he returned the used linens. He didn’t quite know how to segway into his real questions, so he just went for it, hoping it wouldn’t sound too strange. “Do you know everyone here?” He asked. 

“Uh, kind of,” The man shot him a questioning look. “Why?” 

“Just wondering. We were recommended this specific shelter by a wom

The three Winchesters went out the next morning as journalists of the paranormal to talk to the people from the conspiracy blog. 

"Okay - the first person on the list is a Theresa May Harper. 1833 Jefferson Street." 

"And what does she say happened to her?" 

"That's what we're about to find out."

Sam knocked on the door. "Mrs. Harper?"

The door cracked open slightly, stopping with a clank against a chain bolt. That was not exactly a good sign. 

“Who’s asking?”

“My name is Thomas Wyland, and these are my associates, Henry Atkinson and Ryan Matthews. We write for the Weekly Psychic Post, an online supernatural paper,” Dean said. 

“Yeah?” The woman said. 

“We saw your story online, and we were wondering if you would be willing to give us an interview?”

“Oh, of course.” She seemed much more open and engaged now. She closed the door and there was the sound of a chain sliding back and the door swung open fully. “Come in, come in.” She led them through the house into a small kitchen. Sam stared at all the crystals and runes around the rooms. 

Most of them seemed… mundane -- the sort of gimmicky supernatural things sold at malls. Others, however, made him a little wary. This woman might not have a clue what she was doing, but some of these objects seemed to radiate power. 

“What do you want to know?” She asked as she placed steaming mugs of tea in front of each of them. Dean made a face, and Sam shot him an admonishing glare, clearing his throat slightly. 

He smiled at her. “Could you describe your experience for us? Just what happened from your perspective, what it felt like.”

As they listened to her story -- she’d been in a mall when a young woman had asked her for help purchasing some clothes. Sam tried to listen for anything that might indicate whether the influence had come from a psychic or a Nymph. It was hard to tell from her story -- the woman seemed so sympathetic that it could be either. He took notes as she talked, nodding periodically.

“What did this person look like?” Dean asked. 

“She was young. She had sort of medium length brown hair. It was wavy. She was pretty fair, Caucasian, I think.” 

Sam joted that down as well, while Dean ate some of the crackers provided and Castiel watched. “This may sound odd, he said, but when she talked to you, what did you feel, exactly? Like you should do what she said but you didn’t know why, or more like you felt what she wanted you to?”

Ms. Harper considered. “Funny, I think I just needed to do it. Why do you ask?”

“We’ve seen some things like this before, Ms. Harper,” Sam said. “We’re just trying to figure out what exactly happened to you, in case it’s happened to anyone else.”

“Probably not the Nymphs then,” Sam muttered to Dean and Cas as they followed Ms. Harper out of the building. 

Castiel nodded thoughtfully. “It must be more angelic interference.” He frowned. “Heaven has never been exactly forthcoming with information, but it’s difficult to believe that something of this magnitude was going on behind the scenes -- before even the apocalypse began.”

Dean looked over at him. “Yeah,” he scoffed. “Like anything’s out of the question for Heaven’s dickery.” 

Theresa Harper’s interview proved to be the most helpful out of the six they got, which wasn’t particularly encouraging. Sam could only hope that the Nymphs had had a more productive day. 

Sam texted Aneia’s number with a diner location so they could meet up and get food. 

“Perhaps it would be best if I waited at the motel,” Castiel suggested. 

“No,” Dean said sharply. “They’ll get used to it.” 

The diner was a short drive away. Aneia was sitting on the hood of the strange green car, talking with Kye when the Impala pulled into the parking lot. She noticed the Winchesters and waved them over. 

Kye followed her motion with his gaze, looking over his shoulder. He stood stiffly back by the car as they approached. 

“Any news?” Sam asked lightly, determined to keep things civil. 

_ It’s not the Nymphs,  _ Aneia wrote. 

“We figured that much out from our end,” Dean said. Kye shot him a glare. 

Aneia rolled her eyes.  _ Play nice,  _ she said. 

“Why don’t we discuss this further over food?” Sam asked. 

Aneia nodded, Kye shrugged. 

“Good idea,” Dean said. “I could use a beer and something with meat.”

They followed him into the dingy diner, sliding into a well-worn vinyl booth. “How did you determine it wasn’t the Nymphs?” Castiel asked. 

_ There aren’t any others here.  _ Aneia said.  _ It would be somewhat difficult for it to be a Nymph without there being a Nymph.  _

“Fair enough,” Dean said. “The people we talked to didn’t sound like they’d been bewitched by you guys anyways.” 

Aneia’s eyebrows arched.  _ Did you learn anything else?  _

“We got a basic physical description. Young white woman, curly brown hair, medium length,” Sam said. 

The Nymphs joted the information down just as a waitress appeared by the table. Dean ordered and Sam ordered first, and the Nymphs visually pointed out their choices on the menu. 

“And what about you, honey?” She asked Castiel.

“No thank you,” he said. 

Dean watched the waitress walk away through narrowed eyes.

_ So what now?  _ Kye asked. 

“You don’t have to be here if you don’t want,” Sam said. Dean shot him a look. “It doesn’t sound like this is exactly your kind of case.”

Aneia and Kye exchanged a look, seemingly having a private debate. After a moment, they shrugged, and Aneia wrote,  _ Up to you. We’ll stay if you think we can help.  _

“Okay,” Sam said. 

_ So what now?  _ Kye repeated. 

“Perhaps we should consider splitting up.” Castiel said. “We don’t know where we might find her next.”

_ Do we have any idea where to start looking even?  _ He asked. 

The waitress stopped by with the food. They accepted it with smiles and thanks before turning back to their conversation as she walked away. 

“Nope,” Dean said, taking a bite. 

Aneia threw her hands up roughly.  _ Great.  _

“There doesn’t seem to be any pattern to the encounters people have reported,” Cas said regretfully.

_ Could we take a look?  _

“Sure, if you think it would help,” Sam said. 

Dean snorted. “You kids have fun with that. Sammy can teach you all about research.”

Aneia rolled her eyes as Sam sighed. Dean turned to Castiel. “What do you say, Cas? Want to do something more interesting than research?”

“Is now the best time, Dean? We’re on a case.”

“Yeah, one that’s going nowhere tonight. I don’t want to sit in the motel room looking at research we’ve already done.” 

Sam hide a smile as he saw the conflicted look on Castiel’s face. “Go ahead, Cas. We’ll let you know if we need anything.” 

Castiel hesitated a moment longer, then nodded. Sam felt relieved. Aside from giving the angel and Dean time to figure out whatever was going on with them, he also thought it would be easier to have a conversation with the Nymphs without Castiel around -- as harsh as that may have been, Kye was still clearly afraid of him. 

They continued eating, the silence that fell somewhere between comfortable and awkward. 

Dean cleared his throat as he finished, watching the others eat more slowly. “So,” he said. “Where’d you get the car? You definitely look too young to buy.”

_ We found it.  _ Aneia said. 

“Found it?”

_ It was abandoned on the side of the road.  _

“Oh my god,” Dean said. “That explains a lot.”

Aneia stuck her tongue out.  _ I like it. And it wasn’t hard to fix.  _

“Okay,” Sam said, trying to pacify his brother. He was glad they were bantering and not fighting, but he knew how intense Dean could get about cars. “Is everyone ready?”

The Nymphs both nodded. Setting their emptied plates aside, they both placed money on the table. Aneia waved to Dean and Cas, and they followed Sam out to their car.  _ I’ll drive,  _ Aneia said. 

Kye took shotgun, and Sam slid into the backseat. He realised that their car was missing a seatbelt, and shifted so he was in the safer seat. Aneia drove easily and quickly back to the motel, parking the car outside the Nymph’s room. She shut the car and gestured them towards the Winchester’s room. 

Sam unlocked the door and threw open the closet to show them the research he’d compiled. “This is what we’ve found so far.”

The two moved to look, pointing to and discussing different parts. 

“So, what do you think?” He asked eventually.

_ Did you interview all of these people?  _ Kye gestured to the different newspaper clippings and blog printouts with witnesses circled. 

“Most of them. There were a few we couldn’t find,” Sam admitted. “But they all pretty much said the same thing. We know it was a human psychic, not a Nymph, and we’ve got that description I gave you, but that’s about it. We don’t know where to go from there. There doesn’t seem to be a pattern to her appearances.”

Aneia cocked her head, scrutinising the map they had on the wall. Kye tapped her, pointing out something he saw there. Her eyes widened, and she nodded. She gestured Sam over. 

_ There is a pattern.  _ Kye wrote.  _ All the incidents are near a homeless shelter.  _

Sam blinked. It wasn’t an angle he would have thought to look for. “So, you think she’s homeless?”

_ Possibly. I think it’s a good place to start looking,  _ Aneia said. Kye nodded. 

“Okay, yeah. I’ll let Dean and Cas know.”

_ Then we can plan our next move.  _ Kye said.  _ That it for the night?  _

“I think so.”

Kye nodded and turned to the door. Aneia smiled and waved. 

“Wait--” Sam said. “Can I talk to you for a sec?” He asked Aneia. 

Kye looked to Aneia, suspicion on his face. She just nodded and waved him on ahead. 

_ What’s up?  _ She asked. 

Sam waited until Kye had shut the door. “Is he okay with this?” 

She squiggled her hand in a so-so motion, then wrote,  _ he wants to help people; he’s just not super comfortable with you guys.  _

“That’s what I meant. I don’t want to put him in a bad situation.”

_ Thank you, but we both chose to be here. We can leave anytime we need.  _

“Okay,” Sam said. “That’s fair.”

She tipped her head. She didn’t need him to tell her that. 

“Hey,” he said. “Is there a reason you’re not signing?” He didn’t know why he said it or why it had been bothering him so much, but on top of everything else, it just seemed like it added more distance. 

_ Not really,  _ her nose scrunched up slightly.  _ It kind of feels rude in front of people who don’t understand ASL,  _ she wrote.  _ Last time was an emergency.  _

Then she paused, seeming to consider.  _ Please don’t take this the wrong way,  _ she said,  _ but the reason I’m comfortable signing with you in the first place is because you’re still learning. There’s enough of a language barrier that I don’t have to worry about you,  _ she rolled her eyes,  _ “falling under our spell.”  _

“I know,” he said. 

_ Right. But that means I have to balance wanting to just talk casually with the need for clarity.  _

He nodded. That made sense. There were so many words he didn’t know, and they couldn’t exactly afford to wait while he tried to figure out what was going on. 

Once again, she seemed to waver, contemplating her next move. Then she set the notebook aside and faced him. 

_ I’m not mad at you, if that’s what you thought,  _ she signed slowly and clearly, a smile tugging at her lips. 

He smiled back and signed, “I’m glad.” 

She grinned, gathering her things.  _ Good night, Sam.  _ And then, with an impish look in her eyes,  _ And good luck with Eileen.  _

“Hey!” Sam protested, but she was already out the door.

There was a knock on their door obscenely early the next morning. Nymphs slept, but apparently not nearly as late as most humans thought was appropriate -- or maybe that was just the Winchesters. Dean grumbled and pulled his pillow over his head as Castiel moved to open the door. 

Kye smirked as he stepped in.  _ Did we wake you?  _ He held up, prewritten. 

He seemed a little more comfortable than he had the previous day. Sam sighed and stretched. “Is there a reason you’re so early?”

Kye shrugged, and Aneia moved to rouse Dean, amusement written on her face. Cas stepped in between them, saying “He is … not good with mornings,” when she glanced up at him, confused. 

Her eyebrows shot up, but she just nodded and stepped back, watching as the angel placed coffee next to Dean’s buried head, then tapped him on the shoulder. 

He moved the coffee out of the way as Dean swiped wildly around him to remove the force attempting to wake him. “Dean,” Castiel said sternly, setting the coffee back down. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean muttered. 

Cas offered a cup to Sam, who shook his head. “No, thank you, Cas.” 

The angel shrugged and began drinking the coffee himself. Sam knew he didn’t need to, but there was something about the human activities of eating and drinking that had started to gain some appeal -- perhaps the social aspect that allowed him to connect with Dean. 

It had been an area of commonality for the two during the brief period when Castiel was human, and Sam sometimes caught him watching them as they ate, a ponderous look on his face like he was trying to remember what it was like to taste. 

Sometimes, Sam wondered if Cas could ever get that back -- have the best of both worlds, so to speak. 

Mostly though, he didn’t have time to think about it. Hunter life moved too quickly. 

Like now, as Dean finally managed to get himself upright. Kye snorted, and Dean shot him a glare, but the Nymph seemed unbothered. 

_ I assume you explained the situation?  _ Aneia asked Sam, gesturing to Dean and Castiel. 

He nodded, and she nodded back in acknowledgement.  _ So what’s the plan?  _

“Slow your roll, Barky,” Dean grunted. “Let a man have his coffee first.” 

Her eyebrows shot up, and Sam realised it might have been the first time Dean called her that to her face. 

“Dean,” he chided. 

Dean glanced up at Aneia’s expression and muttered, “no offense,” before tipping his face into his coffee cup. 

That didn’t seem to make Aneia any less bewildered, but she blinked her initial shock away and wrote,  _ O-kay then. Moving on… _

“We could split up to check the various homeless shelters,” Sam suggested. “Cover more ground.”

The Nymphs exchanged a look.  _ Okay.  _ Kye wrote.  _ But these situations can get odd without interpreters, and I don’t think we have time to find one.  _

A thoughtful expression crossed Aneia’s face, and as it cleared, she turned to Kye, tapping his shoulder. She said something quickly, the speed, sideways angle, and complexity making it impossible for Sam to pick out anything but an occasional word. ASL was totally different in the hands of fluent speakers. 

After a moment, Kye shrugged. Apparently, that was as close to agreement from him as it got because Aneia turned back to them and wrote,  _ We can split up if Kye goes with Sam since you,  _ she nodded to him,  _ know some ASL, and I’ll go with you guys.  _ She nodded to Dean and Cas. Sam suspected it was also because the Nymph knew that she’d be more comfortable around them than Kye would. 

“Wait,” Dean said. “Doesn’t that mean Sam’s vulnerable.”

Aneia shook her head.  _ You know how essential understanding of not just our words but the tone, emotion, and expression are to our ability to make others empathise with us. Language barriers prevent a lot of that -- just like we try to with writing, take out as many of those personal nuances as possible.  _

Dean nodded. “Okay. So Sam’s not fluent so he’s safe. What about you?”

She smiled. _I have had to do things like this before._

“It didn’t seem like it when you showed up at our door in Seattle.”

Her expression closed off.  _ When I showed up at the motel in Seattle, I’d just watched a man jump off a cliff.  _ Whatever she may have said about writing hiding emotion, Sam could see the coldness in her voice. 

Any trace of humour went out of Dean’s face as well. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

She shrugged.  _ I’ve got my phone and notebook. We’ll figure communication out.  _

The group ate a quick breakfast together, which surprised Sam somewhat. He appreciated the effort they were all putting in to get along. Afterwords, they split up the shelters, and each group started their search. 

Sam felt a little awkward around Kye, who seemed to feel the same. Neither of them really knew each other. Still, he knew it was the better arrangement, and he did want to get to know him. 

“Alright. Our first shelter is down 32nd Street. Are you driving?”

Kye nodded. Dean was taking the Impala, of course, so Sam once again slid onto the worn, cracked leather of the Nymph’s car. 

They drove in relative silence. Kye was a confident driver, absolutely focused on the road and unhesitant. He didn’t park at the shelter, instead pulling off a few streets away. Sam glanced over as the car stopped. 

_ How do we want to do this?  _ Kye asked. 

“How do you guys normally do things like this?”

He shrugged.  _ We’re usually just ourselves. We have a lot of experience moving around and being homeless.  _ He glanced over at Sam.  _ You and I, however, don’t really look the part.  _

“What would you suggest? We could be volunteers.” 

Kye tilted his head. He was less expressive than Aneia, reserved.  _ That might work. Most volunteers don’t really interact with the people at the shelter. _

“But, I mean, some do, right?” 

_ They do.  _

“Then, even if it’s not exactly normal, we’re only going to be there for today.”

He shrugged again but followed Sam out of the car, turning down the street and heading towards the shelter. He stuck his notebook in his pocket. 

_ Better sign, now.  _ He said.  _ Looks less odd.  _

He kept the sentences short and simple, clearly for Sam’s benefit. It wasn’t a long walk, but it felt tense and uncomfortable. It wasn’t just that Kye was quieter in general -- he was also holding back, keeping himself closed off. 

Sam didn’t know if he was afraid of Sam or afraid of influencing Sam. 

When they reached the shelter, Sam took stock of the area, checking looking for anyone who might match the description they had. 

It was hard not to feel like everyone’s were on them as they walked through empty lot towards the entrance of the building. They did stand out.

Kye seemed uncomfortable with the attention, like he was used to being part of the nearly invisible crowd. 

Still, he walked with a vague familiarity, despite having never been there before, that came from having seen countless similar institutions before. He allowed himself to follow the Nymph inside building and toward a small reception table that looked like it was originally made to be a card table. 

Kye waved uncertainly to get the attention of the man sitting at the table and smiled at him awkwardly when he looked up. 

It seemed out of character for his typical personality, but Sam didn’t know him well enough to know if it was real. Was he playing the part or was his hard exterior the act -- a defense mechanism around the hunters and angels? 

“Can I help you?” The man asked. 

Kye glanced over at Sam, indicating he should explain. 

“Uh, we’re here to volunteer,” Sam said. 

The man nodded, waiting for him to say more. 

“I’m Edmund Ray, and this is my nephew, Kyle.”

The man jotted the names down. “Okay. Do you have any experience volunteering?”

Sam shook his head as Kye nodded. 

“Is that a yes or a no?” The man asked with a smile. 

“He has, I haven’t,” Sam explained. “It’s supposed to be a kind of family thing -- his suggestion.” 

Kye smiled again innocently, this time definitely playing the part. He didn’t seem surprised by Sam’s quick lies. They were both used to a life of pretending, but Kye’s complete transformation of nature bordered on uncanny. 

The man turned to Kye. “You’ve volunteered before?”

He nodded.

“What sort of things have you done before?” 

Kye turned toward Sam so he was facing him fully, eyebrows raised in question. Sam nodded. 

_ Cleaning, making food, giving food… _ There were more signs that Sam couldn’t keep up with, despite Kye slowing down for him, but he translated what he could. 

“Is your nephew deaf?” The man asked Sam, brows furrowed. 

“Mute,” he corrected. 

A repulsed look crossed the man’s face. “We don’t use that word here.” 

“Oh, no, not like, not verbal. He can hear, but … his vocal cords don’t work.” It was kind of a sloppy excuse, but he didn’t know enough about the specific medical reasons for muteness to do better. Luckily, the man at the table didn’t seem to either. Sam was extraordinarily glad that he’d been the one to go with Kye. He didn’t think either Dean or Cas would have known what to say. It was one of the things he learned about Deaf culture from Eileen. 

Something like relief crossed the man’s face. Sam knew the feeling. He’d been around enough bigoted people to know how intimidating confronting them could feel. 

“We’re sort of jacks of all trades, so where do you need us?” Sam asked. 

The man directed them towards a shelf full of bed and a number of rooms that needed the linens changed. “If you could do up the cots in there for the night, that would be great. Just bring the dirty sheets back here so we can get them cleaned.” 

“Okay, thanks,” Sam said. 

They moved together to gather the indicated things. “What now?” Sam asked quietly. 

Kye shrugged. He pointed at the sheets and mimed putting them on the beds, then added  _ and we talk to people.  _

Sam let Kye take the lead. Changing the sheets was easy enough, but the rooms seemed deserted. 

Eventually, Sam went to find what information he could while Kye finished the rooms. He was the more efficient of them. 

Sam tried to make casual conversation with the man at the table as he returned the used linens. He didn’t quite know how to segway into his real questions, so he just went for it, hoping it wouldn’t sound too strange. “Do you know everyone here?” He asked. 

“Uh, kind of,” The man shot him a questioning look. “Why?” 

“Just wondering. We were recommended this specific shelter by a woman we met a little while ago.”

“Oh?” He seemed interested. “Do you know her name?” 

“Unfortunately, no,” Sam said. He tried to describe her as naturally as possible. The man looked thoughtful. 

“I can kind of picture who you’re talking about, but I don’t think she’s a regular. She brings donations sometimes.”

That didn’t sound like any of their other psychics. “Okay,” Sam said. “Thanks.” 

He found Kye finished with replacing the sheets in the rooms, waiting for him by the door. He shared the information with the Nymph. 

He nodded slowly.  _ So we don’t know which shelter she’ll go to.  _

“Yeah.” 

_ Should we go to the next shelter?  _

“Are we done here?”

He nodded. The two signed out and started walking back towards the car. 

an we met a little while ago.”

“Oh?” He seemed interested. “Do you know her name?” 

“Unfortunately, no,” Sam said. He tried to describe her as naturally as possible. The man looked thoughtful. 

“I can kind of picture who you’re talking about, but I don’t think she’s a regular. She brings donations sometimes.”

That didn’t sound like any of their other psychics. “Okay,” Sam said. “Thanks.” 

He found Kye finished with replacing the sheets in the rooms, waiting for him by the door. He shared the information with the Nymph. 

He nodded slowly.  _ So we don’t know which shelter she’ll go to.  _

“Yeah.” 

_ Should we go to the next shelter?  _

“Are we done here?”

He nodded. The two signed out and started walking back towards the car. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is longer. My current format is just like, making chapters where I normally would put the eclipses, unless that's way too long or short. Let me know if it's not working -- I can reformat.


	3. Conflicted Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean, Cas, and Aneia formulate their approach.

Dean couldn’t stop himself from glancing over at Castiel as they walked towards their first shelter. 

Aneia stayed a few paces behind them, following them towards the shelter. He appreciated the space to think, but he hoped Cas wouldn’t notice where his gaze was. He’d been struggling to work out his complicated feelings towards the angel. 

The Winchesters lived at breakneck speed, with little time for ‘chick flick moments.’ Normally, Dean appreciated that, the sense of purpose that could take over all else and keep him going. But everyone had breaking points. He’d reached his before. 

Now, as they actually seemed to have some time without a larger crisis looming over their heads, Dean knew he had to take the opportunity to reach some sense of equilibrium. 

It was a rare thought for him. Sam would be proud. 

Castiel seemed lost in his own thoughts, and not for the first time, Dean wished the angel wasn’t so hard to read. He seemed to be trying to puzzle through something, but what exactly, Dean couldn’t tell. His gaze was always so intense. 

They closed in on the shelter, and Dean felt a tap on his shoulder. If he hadn’t had such good control of his reflexes, he would have jumped. It was Aneia. 

“Geez,” he muttered. “Give a guy some warning would you?” 

She gave a single shoulder shrug and lifted the notebook.  _ Cover story?  _

Castiel turned to Dean quizzically as well. Damn. Sam was usually better at these kinds of things. 

“How do you usually work these types of things?” 

_ We usually just go as ourselves. I mean, we’re homeless teens, so we go as homeless teens.  _

That didn’t help him much. “Alright. So, what? We say we’re looking for a runaway kid or something?”

Aneia snorted.  _ Sure, you do that. Most people here aren’t going to talk to cops or parents.  _

“So what if we’re looking for you?”

She tilted her head quizzically. It reminded him oddly of Castiel. 

“What if you go to the shelter, working getting info, and we come looking for you? Increase your credibility?”

_ Could work.  _ Then she wrote,  _ better than just the cop plan.  _

So that’s what they did. And it conveniently gave Dean an excuse to spend a few hours with Castiel while they waited for Aneia to establish herself and make their story convincing, though he didn’t know what he should do with them. 

He couldn’t just sit like Cas could. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I failed at a perfect update schedule already. This is a few days late, so, uh yikes. Sorry about that. Sorry also about the pretty short chapter. Like I said, I didn't originally plan to use chapter breaks, so I'm just going with the ...s, but there's not really consistent timing for those. I'll get better at this, promise. 
> 
> Also, I was originally planning to write Dean and Cas together at the start of the first one, but I realised that wouldn't work as well with the attempts to kind of stick to canon, so now I have to get them together, aha. I'm working on it, though, promise. I'm just not super good with the romance? So like. Thanks for your patience


	4. Undercover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aneia goes into the homeless shelter to continue the investigation.

Aneia glanced over her shoulder as she entered the shelter, making sure the two Winchesters were nowhere to be seen. 

It was like most of the other shelters she’d been in in recent years -- somehow both cold and grimy, like some strange combination of a hospital and a subway station. Still, it was safe, and it was far better than outside, and most of the volunteers smiled warm, friendly smiles. A few would even meet her gaze. 

She slunk her way to the registry for a place to stay overnight, effortlessly making herself as small and unassuming as possible. It was both a natural reaction to her time in uncomfortable situations and her inability to talk without putting people at risk. 

The people at the table asked her something, but she just gave them a confused half frown and gestured to the relevant information on the sheets of paper. They asked her her name, but she shook her head. Most places wouldn’t force it unless they had a reason to be concerned. 

They frowned at her but handed her a sheet and thin blanket to put on the mat and didn’t ask again. She was directed to a room for adolescents. 

She started making the bed. It seemed like the most logical course of action. As took in the hard green mats on springless metal frames that creaked with each little shift, she couldn’t help but feel angry. 

She didn’t miss places like this, and she was one of the ones fortunate to find some kind of way out. Granted, hers literally involved magic. She couldn’t fathom how difficult it would be for a normal human. 

She appreciated all that the volunteers did, and she’d meet a ton of wonderful people living in homes like these, but that only made it worse. No one should have to live like this, period. 

She realised her emotions were probably showing through to her face and body language, but that was fine. It fit the role, and it wasn’t like she could accidentally enchant someone here to think being homeless sucked. They knew that for themselves. 

She could feel a few curious eyes on her, but most of the other kids she’d taken stock of when she entered the room weren’t paying her any attention, either trying to respectfully mind their business or totally unfazed by and uninterested in the arrival of another teenager. 

Some had sent suspicious glares her way at first, but most seemed to have decided she probably wasn’t a threat. If only they knew. 

Aneia lay down experimentally, gazing at the metal slats overhead. It felt strangely terrifying to be there alone, without Kye. 

They’d been trained together and worked together for as long as she could remember, like siblings for humans. Normally, when things became overwhelming, they could retreat into themselves, their own world, blocking out whatever they didn’t need to do their jobs. 

Still, she  _ was  _ here on a case. She had a job she could focus on. Aneia hissed out a sharp breath and rolled back into a sitting position, ducking her head and shoulders so they wouldn’t hit the too-low bed above her. 

It was hard to act neutral knowing everyone was watching each other. Luckily, she didn’t need to act neutral. She let natural tensions and anxieties bubble slightly under the surface. 

Enough establishing herself. She had work to do. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Totally forgot to, uhhh, function with updating things? I am very bad at this. BUT! I am here now, and there is more on the way, eventually. 
> 
> Haha, yikes.


	5. Been a Long Time Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware this chapters are... very short. Mostly that's due to the number of perspective shifts? But also like, I am genuinely so bad at this type of thing. So. Enjoy. I tried.

Castiel watched Dean carefully. The man seemed to be drinking his beer almost studiously, like a mirror of Cas’s own attempts to pass as human. 

Dean was the only one he could even hope to read like that. Angels could tell when people were lying, but humans were too grey for that, with their half-truths and their lies by omission, and their ability to lie to themselves. 

So what was Dean thinking about? It could just be the case. The situation with the angels and the psychics and the Nymphs was perplexing, but they’d faced far worse. 

“What?” Dean asked. Cas realised abruptly that the hunter was looking back at him. 

“You seem frustrated.” He wasn’t entirely sure why he said it. Dean had never been direct about his emotions. 

Dean snorted and took a rough final swig of his beer before setting it on the table between them. “I hate waiting,” he said, leaning forward onto his elbows. Cas nodded in understanding. “Fuck it,” the hunter muttered. 

“Dean?” Cas questioned, head cocked in confusion. 

Dean kissed him.

Castiel stilled in shock. He’d only been kissed like this a few times before, but he’d never expected it from Dean. He hadn’t expected any returned affection at all. As much as his head was buzzing with the moment, Castiel knew he had to stop him.

He gently but firmly placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder, separating them. “Wait,” he said, voice coarser than normal. 

“What?” Dean said. He wasn’t angry, but he did seem … upset? “Do you not want this?” He asked. 

Castiel cleared his throat. “We should… we should discuss this. Are there not human rituals of courting to follow first?”

Dean looked away staring at the beer like he was contemplating downing the rest of it. When he looked back at the angel, his gaze was unreadable. “You want that?” 

Cas didn’t know exactly what he was supposed to say. “If you do,” he said, guessing at what Dean wanted to hear. Dean kissed him again. Castiel wasn’t sure what that meant, but he leaned into the kiss regardless. If Dean only wanted a physical relationship, at least it still proved that he hadn’t been imagining whatever it was between them.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “I want that. After we crack this case?” 

“Sure. After we crack this case,” he smiled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! It's Nymphverse canon now! I promised I'd get there. No queerbaiting here, just a slow, awkward writer. Hopefully it feels kind of genuine? Idk.


	6. Building Alliances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aneia connects with some of the kids at the shelter.

Aneia shuffled through the line for the sandwich the shelter offered for lunch. She clarified what she wanted by pointing and went to sit in the corner of a back table, exactly where someone new to this would sit. Corners weren’t inconspicuous in a building full of outcasts. They marked you as someone who didn’t know how to blend in. 

She ate with her head down, eyes glancing around the room, taking everyone and everything in. One of the kids who’d been studiously ignoring when she came in sat down. 

“Hey,” she said gruffly. Aneia looked up eyes narrowed. The girl snorted. “No need to be so hostile. I don’t normally do this sort of thing, but you seem like you need some help.”

Aneia allowed her eyes to soften slightly, tilting her head inquisitively.    
The girl sighed. “You’re new, right?”

Aneia arched an eyebrow. 

She scoffed. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious you haven’t done stuff like this before.” 

Aneia pretended to look mildly surprised and slightly offended, but kept her face controlled with an effort that she purposefully let show. 

“Oh, come on, cut the strong and silent act. We’ve all been there, tried that. We’re in the same shithole situation together.”

Aneia let the genuine surprise and anger show this time. She pointed to her throat coldly and shook her head. 

The girl’s eyes widened. “Shit, man! Sorry, I didn’t know.” 

Aneia shrugged. 

“But you can hear, though?” 

She nodded. 

“So how do you, like communicate?” 

Aneia mimed writing and nodded when the girl guessed, then hesitantly gestured for signing. 

“Is that, like, sign language?’

She nodded again. 

“Hold on, I think Jackson knows a few signs.”

Aneia resisted the urge to thunk her head against the metal table. This was always fun. 

The girl -- who still hadn’t told Aneia her name -- came back with another kid about her age, presumably Jackson. 

He gave that awkward half smile white people gave as he sat down.  _ I, not great,  _ he signed choppily and apologetically. 

She waved him off. At least he wasn’t just listing off all the swear words he knew.  _ I can hear you.  _ She signed. 

“You can?” He blurted, hands completely dropping in surprise. “But--”

The girl beside him rolled her eyes. “She’s mute, not deaf, you dolt.”

“Oh.” He said. “So you don’t talk?”

Aneia nodded. 

The girl gave them an impatient look. “So are we good to go here?” 

Aneia gave a confused, sharp shrug, still totally clueless as to what this girl was trying to achieve. 

“I guess,” Jackson said, and Aneia couldn’t tell it that was him answering or trying to translate for her. 

The girl nodded with satisfaction and turned to face Aneia like she had been earlier. “So, to business. You’re new. Why’d you run away?” 

At least she was talking directly to Aneia, not to Jackson, their impromptu interpreter of sorts. That was better manners than some people had.  _ I’m a foster kid. The new home isn’t working out. I didn’t feel safe, so I ran.  _ She tried to sign slow and avoid the slang she might normally use, keeping it closer to English grammar in hopes of smoothing the rough translation process. 

Jackson stared at her helplessly. She’d seen enough glazed eyes to know everything she had just said went over his head. 

“I, uh, I didn’t get that, sorry,” he said. 

And at least he was honest. He wasn’t trying to guess. Still, this was going to take awhile. It would probably be better to just use paper, but this was a case. If this was her in, she had to take, regardless of the time or frustration it might mean. 

She pointed to herself and spelled out  _ f-o-s-t-e-r  _ slowly. 

“Foster?” 

She nodded and signed  _ child.  _

“Short? No, uh, kid?” 

She nodded again. 

“You’re a foster kid?” 

“I’ve been there,” the girl said. “Let me guess, bad new home?” 

Aneia nodded.  _ I feel like they don’t even try to listen. Even conversation takes such focus and effort, and nobody else will put in that same work. Like it’s all my responsibility, or I’m not worth the hassle.  _

Jackson looked like he’d been slapped as he tried to translate. It was far from a good translation, but the basic point seemed to get across. “Sorry,” he added weakly at the end. 

_ Not you.  _ She shook her head.  _ You’re doing more than most ever do.  _

It was true. It didn’t mean the conversation wasn’t still exhausting -- she often wished she didn’t have to slow herself down to accommodate others -- but at least Jackson was trying. He was genuinely working to understand her on her terms, and she couldn’t tell him how much that meant. 

Aneia checked the clock as she continued to shift her gaze around, never letting it linger anywhere specific. Dean and Castiel should be here soon. 

Perfect. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I'm bad at titles? Chapter titles are the worst part of updating, tbh, but I don't want to just number them? I don't know why. Also, I am 100% done with this story, so (assuming I don't forget, which, yikes) I should be able to update daily now until it's all out.


	7. Tensions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel and Dean enter the homeless shelter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting the plot back on track, y'all.

Dean still felt frazzled as they turned into the shelter. Normally driving helped clear his head, but right now, he was still reeling. 

Cas wanted to date. 

That was … unexpected. Dean was better at communicating with his actions. That’s why he’d kissed him. He was used to physical intimacy, but dating? Dating had always been a different ball game. 

But the shelter was up ahead. For now, he could put it out of his mind. He’d always been good at that, for short bursts, at least. 

He took in his surroundings. The place was on par with some of the more run down motels they’d stayed at. Cas didn’t seemed to have noticed. He walked straight to one of the volunteers and started asking questions. 

They’d decided that Cas would be the social service worker and Dean would be from the foster family. Aneia had said no one would buy it if the roles were reversed. 

Dean had to admit, although they both had their own experiences tracking down troubled kids, Cas slipped easily into the role of a more legalistic protector. 

He, on the other hand, wasn’t quite sure what to do with the implication that he was paternal. 

Dean checked the room. He wouldn’t have noticed Aneia, but she had clearly noticed him and was pointing him out to some other kids around her, playing the role of a kid who realised the authorities were getting close to them. 

They were making their way out towards the back, doing a poor job of looking inconspicuous and hiding Aneia, but her plan had worked. These kids were on her side now because they understood her. 

How would they find the psychic from here? Should they wait for Aneia to ask? Should they ask themselves? Dean wasn’t used to elaborate plans like this. He preferred to keep things simple. 

For once, however, fate seemed to be on their side. As Castiel asked his questions and Dean deliberated, a young woman approached them. She matched the description, but it was her voice that gave her away. Dean didn’t have time to react before she started speaking. 

“Hi there! Can I help you fellas?” It put Dean at ease almost against his will. 

“We’re looking for a girl,” Castiel said. Dean couldn’t tell if he’d registered what the woman was. 

“She ran away a few days ago, and was last seen in this general area.” 

“Are you her fathers?” 

For some reason, the implication made Dean flush. He wasn’t easily embarrassed, but in light of his and Cas’s most recent conversation, the statement played into dreams for the future he didn’t know he had, he’d spent so long ignoring them as impossibilities. 

It seemed to have stunned Cas momentarily as well. “Er, no.” He said gruffly. “I’m Carl Newton, her social worker, and this is Dan Martin.” 

“Dan Martin?” 

“Foster father,” Dean said. 

The brunette nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t think this is the best approach. Why don’t you let me talk to her?”

She was persuasive, and part of Dean thought she was right. Maybe Aneia would be better at handling this situation. He exchanged a look with Castiel. 

“Give me fifteen minutes,” she said, laying a hand on the angel’s arm with a smile. It froze on her face for a split second and then she turned, assuming they would do as she asked. And they did. Dean wasn’t entirely sure why, but they did. Still, something was worrying Dean. Aneia was powerful, but as they’d discovered, Nymphs and psychics weren’t the same. They didn’t know how their powers would interact. 

“Could you keep an eye on her?” He asked Castiel. 

The angel nodded, and Dean was left standing alone, no one in the building paying any mind to him. 


	8. Meeting the next psychic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunters and the Nymph meet the psychic and plan their next move.

The young woman seemed to have no trouble finding Aneia -- she entered the room just moments after Castiel did. 

Aneia looked up, her expression unreadable as she sat next to another homeless youth. 

“Hey,” the woman said. “Do you know there are some people looking for you?” Her tone was gentle as she took a seat on one of the beds across from the Nymph. 

Aneia nodded. The girl next to her took her hand gently, rubbing her thumb across her palm in a human gesture of affection. Aneia blinked but seemed to relax slightly. 

“They seem nice. Do you want to tell me why you ran away?” She woman asked. 

Aneia tapped her hand and glanced at one of the boys in the room. 

“Oh, right!” The girl said and released her hand.

Aneia slowly signed something, but Castiel couldn’t understand. He found himself waiting for someone to translate. Luckily, the boy did. 

“She says they can’t even talk to her. There’s nothing for her.”

“I’m sure it feels that way, but I think these people are really willing to try. Will you give it a shot?” 

Castiel couldn’t tell if Aneia was swayed the way he and Dean had been. She made a short, sharp gesture. “Why?” The boy translated. 

“Trust me. I’m a good judge of character. They only want to help. They might not know how to do that, but running away won’t help them understand.”

“It shouldn’t--” the boy started. “Uh, I don’t understand what you’re trying to say. Sorry.” 

Aneia took a deep breath and slowed down, her words pointed and emphatic. 

“It shouldn’t always be my responsibility to help people understand.”

Castiel had never been great with human emotions, but he’d been getting better at understanding his own, and something in her connected with him. When he’d met her, he would have brushed it off as Aneia’s powerful expressionism having its effect. 

“Okay,” the woman said. “How about I help you?”

“You understand me?” Aneia asked -- one of the few signs Castiel recognised from their previous conversations. 

“No,” the woman said. Castiel saw Aneia’s face drop. “But I can get a hold of a real interpreter. No offense,” she said to the teenager. 

“None taken,” he said, relief colouring his tone. Aneia’s hands remained still.

“I know this is hard,” she said, her eyes passing back and forth across Aneia’s face. “But I do want to help. And so do those men in there. Will you give it a shot?”

“Will you come with me?” He translated. 

Realising what was about to happen, Castiel returned to the main room. He watched Dean glare as he reappeared, startling him. 

“Well?” The hunter asked. 

“They’re on the way here.”

“Together?”

Castiel nodded. 

“What?”

Before the angel could try to explain, his gaze was drawn toward the back of the room as Aneia and the young woman entered the hall and approached them. 

“Is this the girl you’re looking for?” She asked. Aneia cocked her head, tossing her dark hair. 

“Yeah,” Dean said. 

“Okay. I’m going to go ask for an interpreter, okay? Just wait here, please.” 

Aneia rolled her eyes. She pulled her phone out, tapping quickly. Dean’s buzzed, and Castiel glanced at the screen over his shoulder. 

_ What do you want to do from here? _

_ Can we find a way to get her out of here to talk to her?  _

Aneia shrugged, her eyes locked on the woman talking with one of the people at the desk.  _ I might be able to steer the conversation that way. Interpreter could be a problem, though. Don’t want to influence them.  _

They didn’t have time to respond as the woman headed back towards them. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “There isn’t an interpreter available on such short notice. Someone could be here in a few hours if you want--” she trailed off. 

Castiel instinctively looked to Aneia. She closed her eyes for a second, drawing in a breath. When she opened them, she was half-smiling sympathetically. She shook her head and mimed writing, one eyebrow raised. 

“Paper? To write?” The woman asked. 

Aneia nodded. The woman called another volunteer over, and it wasn’t long before they’d found paper and a pen for Aneia to work with. 

“Could we take this somewhere a little more private?” Dean asked, smiling. “I’d hate to cause a scene.” He was clearly pouring his charm into it, and the strange stirring feeling Castiel always felt when Dean flirted came back. In its own way, Dean’s charisma could be just as potent as the Nymphs’. 

“Uh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” the woman said hesitantly. “They generally recommend doing these sorts of things on neutral ground, so to speak.” 

“I understand,” Castiel said. “But is there a room we could use?” This felt familiar, like negotiations before a battle. 

“Oh! Of course. That would be fine.” She led them to an office off the side. She gestured, offering them seats. Cas followed Dean’s lead and sat in one of the chairs. Aneia perched tightly on a window sill. The young woman ended up leaning against the desk, half sitting on it, half standing. 

They all waited until the door closed. 

“So--” the woman began. 

“You need to stop controlling people,” Dean said unprompted. Cas sent him a sharp look, almost smiling when he saw Aneia do the same. His people skills were hardly stellar, but that was clearly a faux paux. 

“What?” She asked. She began to protest, and Dean began to argue. 

Aneia made a sharp cutting motion, though Castiel wasn’t certain which of them she meant to silence. Either way, it was successful, they fell quiet, eyes on her. She scribbled quickly.  _ You clearly mean well. You don’t want to hurt others.  _

“Of course not!” The woman said, stung. 

_ Great.  _ She ripped the page off to punctuate her transition.  _ But you have power. And if people like us came looking, something’s going wrong. Will you let us help you?  _

“Help me? How?”

Aneia looked down at the notebook and then looked back up at the woman. “We’re more alike than you know,” she said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made the chapters a little longer. I'm trying here. I don't know how I'll format the next one, but hopefully better.


	9. Maria's Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchester's and Nymphs argue morality with the psychic.

Sam took in the brunette standing in front of him, trying to process what he was seeing. She certainly resembled the description they had of her, but what he couldn’t figure out what was why she was there. 

She’d entered the restaurant with Dean, Cas, and Aneia, looking baffled and nervous to be there. She fidgeted, waiting until they’d all ordered to start the conversation. 

“I don’t hurt anyone. I use my powers for good. I don’t get why you’re after me.” 

Sam nodded, shooting Dean a silencing look. This was more his territory. “I know. But free will is important. It’s not something someone else should have the power to take away.” 

“I’m helping people. Most of the people in this town, they’d let people suffer on the streets without even looking back and I have a chance to help them. I have a chance to make a difference.”

“But if you’re controlling them, it’s not real,” Dean said. 

Her eyes flashed. “It’s real to the people who get to eat that day.”

“Okay,” Sam said. “That’s true. But there are better ways.”

“I’m not robbing them. At least this way, they can feel self-righteous and deduct it from their taxes like it was their decision.”

“But not everything you conned people out of was necessary.”

“It was Christmas! I just wanted to do something nice for the kids at the shelters.”

The conversation was quickly escalating, and Sam felt like they were spiralling. Screaming at each other wouldn’t change anything. Before he could try to get them to consider, Dean’s voice cut back in, cold. 

“No one should have this power. You need to give it up.”

The Nymphs recoiled like they’d been the ones attacked. 

“Give it up?” She said. “Is that even possible?” 

“If you’re truly what we suspect you are, yes,” Castiel said. “Psychic powers bestowed by angels can be removed by angels.” 

If the implications of this phased her, she didn’t show it. Kye, however, was shaking his head.  _ No.  _ He wrote.  _ Having power isn’t inherently wrong.  _

“So what? I should choose to be mute, like you? No offense -- I think what you’re doing is great, but I can’t live like that.” 

Sam blinked harshly, trying to shake the memory he had of these same arguments with Dean. 

Aneia wrote something and turned it around.  _ You’re not exactly like us. You can choose when to use your powers.  _

_ You’re lucky.  _ Kye said. 

“So what? You just want me to do nothing, even when something’s wrong?” 

“No, of course not,” Sam said. “We just wanted to talk to you, to you know, make sure you’re aware of the sort of effect you can have on others, so you’re careful.” 

“I am careful.” 

Dean snorted. “Not careful enough if we found you.” He cast a look at Sam. “And I don’t think we should just leave people around with power.” 

“I know, Dean, but that’s not our call. We don’t get to be judge, jury, and executioner and then expect others to be defenseless.” 

“This isn’t hunting. It’s different.” 

“Hunting?” The woman asked. 

“How?” Sam snapped. He was tired of having this argument. He realised that the young woman -- who’s name he’d neglected to ask -- was watching them. He forced himself to pull back, restrain his frustration. “Look, we don’t get to tell her what to do. If she’s not hurting anyone, it’s not our kind of thing.” 

“But controlling people is wrong.” 

“Yeah, Dean, it is!” 

Dean growled and got up, stalking across the restaurant towards the bar. Sam sighed. Castiel looked torn, but Sam nodded, and he went after Dean. 

“Sorry,” he said. “We’ve had some bad experiences with being influenced against our wills, but that doesn’t give us the right to talk like that.” 

_ We didn’t just come here to stop you or confront you.  _ Aneia wrote.  _ We’re also trying to learn more ourselves about how this happened.  _

“What do you mean?” 

_ You were created by angels, yes?  _

“Yes. And I can persuade people, like you. I get visions sometimes, too, like when I met your friend. I could see he was an angel.” 

Aneia nodded.  _ We’ve met a few people like you.  _

“Besides yourselves, you mean?” 

She shook her head.  _ We have similar abilities, but they work very differently. We’re not human.  _

“So why do you care about me?” 

_ We believe your story might help us understand.  _

“You were given these powers when you were young, right? And then were left with them without guidance, say five or six years ago?” 

“What? No,” the woman said. “An angel gave me these powers just a few weeks ago. He said that the others hadn’t passed the test and to do good with them.” 

Sam stared. The apocalypse was over. The angels had no reason to continue making psychics. 

_ That explains the power surge.  _ Kye wrote.  _ You’ll settle into it.  _

“What?” 

“I think he means, it makes sense that you’re just figuring things out, since these powers are new to you. You’ll get better at knowing when to use them.” 

“Thanks, I guess?” She said sarcastically. 

_ Name?  _ Aneia asked. Sam translated for her. 

“Maria Coney.” 

She nodded and scrawled her number on a piece of paper, handing it to Maria. Then she wrote,  _ these powers are a big responsibility, but they get easier. If you need anything, just let me know. Above all, trust your own judgement. You’re a good person, and others aren’t always what they seem.  _

“That’s cryptic,” Maria said. 

Kye rolled his eyes.  _ Most angels are dicks,  _ he wrote. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the day's delay. Ngl, I think Sam's perspective is my favourite. I'm not sure I'm good enough at tonally distinguishing between them, though, so I don't know for sure what I'll be doing in the future for these. It's good to be back tho.


	10. Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's what the title says.

By the time they were ready to head back to the motel, Castiel had managed to calm Dean down, and Maria had promised to be more conservative with her power use. What was really bothering Sam was the idea that there were still angels out there making new psychics. What was the goal? What did it have to do with the Nymphs? 

“Sorry we dragged you out here for nothing,” Sam said. 

_ Not for nothing.  _ Kye wrote. 

_ Besides, we were heading this anyways.  _

“You ever going to explain that?” 

Kye shrugged. 

_ If anything comes of it, yes.  _ Aneia wrote.  _ Right now, we’re just following up some leads. If it ends up relating to Maria or the other psychics, I’ll let you know.  _

“Fair enough,” Sam said. 

The Nymphs headed to their own motel room, and Kye flicked him a quick salute before they ducked through the door. 

Sam stared. He didn’t know what to think of the other Nymph. Aneia was relatively easy to understand. She wore her heart on her sleeve and kept it just contained enough to protect others. She could use her emotions to her own advantage, but they were always hers. They always came from somewhere. Kye was different, funneling whatever was going on inside of his head into whatever reaction he needed it to be. Sam couldn’t tell if he trusted him any more after their time investigating the homeless shelter. 

Still, anyone who could match sarcasm with a tired Dean had a personality of some kind. If he didn’t want the hunters to see it yet, Sam could respect that. He could only hope things would get easier between them all because he had the nagging feeling that they hadn’t even begun to scratch the surface of this newest issue. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada! Multi-chapter fic! Can you see I got a little better at formatting? By the end, I wasn't swinging quite as wildly in chapter length. We'll see if I can sustain that growth in quality next time. Yikes. 
> 
> I do have a loose plan for this entire series/arc thing, but I know I'm not the most reliable with timing, and I have a lot of details to work out. Thank you for your patience thus far, and I'll do my best to keep improving on that in the future.


End file.
